Confessions of a Z Addict part2
by bettertohaveloved
Summary: She gets a hit of Z... and we're not talking for free ; sorry for that, couldn't resist. XD Rated M because it combines GraveRobber with the filthbag that is my mind. Also we learn more about the exciting world of Zydrate. Sorry it's so short!
1. Chapter 1

"You don't mean…?" I said, looking into the hunger in his eyes. He did.  
"Why not? We both know what we want."

I looked at him dumbfounded. Flattered, on one level, but still dumbfounded. Was he serious? Of course, he was- the way he was looking at me, still moving his hands around my ass and back. Mixed with my confusion was my anxiety and stress of needing my fix. I'd be willing to do about pretty much anything at this point, but if I did _this_... does that make me his whore? He began kissing my neck.

_Oh, to hell with it! _

"Fine." I said lowly, "but just this once."  
"That's what they all say." He said with a satisfied smirk. He took my hand and led me to a large brick building in the alleyway where all the other Z addicts hung out. Some people looked at me with envy as Grave pulled me along with that triumphant look on his face, knowing I was getting a hit without paying. Others looked at me in disgust. I didn't notice them too much, I didn't particularly care. All I knew was I was getting my very much needed hit.  
I could feel myself shaking and my head was spinning. I was beginning to feel weak. Grave pulled me up some old stirs, down a hallway and pushed me against a wall to kiss me hungrily. I inhaled his sent, which was surprisingly clean and musky and I kissed him back. He opened the door to a small room, bare save the bed and dresser. Graves pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me. Our bodies moved together as he began to undress me and I pulled at his many belts. His Zydrate gun that was already loaded fell loose and landed next to us. Before I could even begin to wonder when I'd get my hit, Grave took the gun in his hand, moved down my body and I felt the gun being pressed against my (very) upper thigh. A quick pinch of the needle and I felt the Z flow throughout my veins. I was instantly relaxed but had a newfound energy and confidence. I closed my eyes to absorb the feeling and when they reopened, the world had blue tint.  
The thing about zydrate- why it's so addicting and superior to any other drug, is that no matter how many times you take it, the high is the same. It almost seems to get better with each hit.  
My body moved with Grave's in an interlocking tango and I had felt better than I ever had in my entire life. His touch was incredible, and his kisses were electric and the experience was the best one I would never remember.

When I woke up the next morning I only remembered how incredible I had felt, but nothing in particular. The high had gone down considerably but the buzz was still there.

"Graves? You there?" I mumbled. I looked around, but didn't see anyone there. I untangled myself from the sheets and rolled onto the floor, still delightfully dizzy.  
"Graaa-aavves? Anyone home?" I sing-songed to myself  
No answer. I shrugged to nobody and began pulling on my clothes. A folded piece of paper fell out of my pocked and my name was messily scrawled on it. I unfolded it, tried to steady my eyes and did my best to read it:

_Z,_

_Consider that your last hit from me. I'm cutting you off. I like you too much to watch you destroy yourself._

_G._

_P.S.  
For a stoned chick, you weren't half bad last night._

Talk about a buzz-kill.


	2. Chapter 2

Confessions of a Z Addict

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Repo: The Genetic Opera.

"First hits free"

The second one wasn't.

Neither was the third.

Or forth.

And so it continued. All it takes is that one terrible day where everything seems to be crashing around you. All it takes is some charming stranger with a "free" pick-me-up. That's all there is to it.

My name is Zella. "Z" to most, ironically enough and I've been on Zydrate for… a while. I can't remember the exact date but I'd say about fiveish months. Honestly, I don't even remember why I took the guys offer. All I remember was I was so fucking mad about something I don't even remember and he offered to help.  
We call him Graverobber. It's his name and title, and it suits him. I've tried getting a real name out of him a few times, but all I got was a raised eyebrow. He supplies most of my Z which is naturally the most expensive, but it's also the best fucking thing you will ever encounter. And the worst. His is 100% pure and none of that fake shit other guys have. The buzz can last almost two entire days, but it's the third day that really sucks. After all, every high has an even worse low and I can't even begin to tell you how shitty I've been feeling after two weeks without. I keep my hands stuffed in my pockets to hide my shaking hands as I wander through the ally way looking for the familiar dumpster.

"Graves? You there?"  
"No."  
"Graves, I can see you." He was sleeping on top of a pile of newspapers and magazines, his arms folded across his chest and his multicolored hair covering part of his face. He opened an eye and saw it was me. Throughout our encounters, we've become somewhat friends. He's a bit of a perv but he is funny and we get along nicely. He sighed frustrated and sat up.  
"To what do I owe this pleasure?"  
"I sense sarcasm, Grave-y"  
"From me? Not at all. And stop calling me that." I smiled at how easy it was to annoy him.  
"Sorry, Grave-y." he grumbled something I'm sure wasn't polite.  
"So, whatddya want?"  
"Well it's been two weeks since I've had any Z…"  
"….And you need a fix…"  
"And I was wondering if…"  
" I had any."

"Bingo. So… do you have any?"  
"No. I gave up dealing and became a banker."  
"Aren't you a riot? Anyway, can I get some?"  
"How much you got?"

Shit!!! How do I tell him I don't have any more money?! He'd usually give me some cheaper but I got nothing. Apparently the look on my face told him enough. He took out a vile of Z and looked at it tauntingly.

"Nothing, eh? Well I'm sorry, but I can't just hand this stuff out." He said waving it in front of my face. I reached out to grab it, but was too slow. He smirked at my attempt, but his smile turned to something resembling concern when he noticed how hard my hands were shaking.

"Zella, you okay?"  
"Don't get soft on me, Graves, I'm fine. Just a bit shaky. It's…cold out." He took my hand in his to see how hard I was really shaking. I pulled it away immediately, embarrassed. Not only because I hated feeling so… weak, but because—let's face it-- the man is sexy. Significantly creepy, but sexy at the same time. His light blue eyes sparkled, his face was handsome and mysterious and he rocked long multi-colored hair.

"Never mind, I'll just get going." I said and began to walk away.

"Zella…" he called, jumping out of the dumpster with surprising grace. I turned around to face him as he walked toward me. He put his hand on my cheek and kissed me. And not a sweet little soft one. His other arm moved down my back and his hand grabbed my ass, followed by his other arm, following suit. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist, then grabbed his ass too. Our tongues danced and teased with each other and I heard him moan lowly. He broke the kiss too soon.

"There's more ways to pay than in dough." He whispered into my ear


End file.
